


Once Upon a Dream

by honeybeestorm



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Death, Dorne, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 05:05:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14888174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybeestorm/pseuds/honeybeestorm
Summary: "She came in like a tornado, leaving a hurricane in her wake."





	Once Upon a Dream

                                                                                             

> "Rhaenys, youngest of the three Targaryens, was all her sister was not: playful, curious, impulsive, given to flights of fancy. No true warrior, Rhaenys loved music,  dancing, and poetry, and supported many a singer, mummer, and puppeteer." - The World of Ice and Fire

**“Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality." - Emily Dickinson**

* * *

Falling . . . She dreamt she was falling, as if the gods had deigned to throw her out from the gates of heaven, into the vast blue sky, only to let her dissolve in the burning flames of the seven hells.

The scorching sun was at its peak, her dragon soaring in the sky, its blazing fire intermingling with the bright rays. It all happened so fast. Rhaenys felt like an observer, numb to her own pain, as her back cracked, the sand burning holes in her skin, her head pounding violently with the same force of a war drum together with the high-pitched screams which did not feel like her own.

Her hair gleamed like beaten silver in the sunlight, her lilac eyes wide and pierced. Almost floating.

Rhaenys remembered the soft taste of her brother’s lips, the dark curl of his violet eyes, always aflame with such intensity and passion for her, and her alone. The way her sister’s mouth curls when provoked, her hands instinctively gripping the hilt of her sword. And, Aenys, her sweet little boy, who clings to her skirts like he’s afraid she will disappear into thin air, but with such a radiant smile that would put even the sun to shame.

The undying devotion she bears for her family, it is as powerful as the dragon blood running through her veins.

Hands caressed her cheeks, smoothing the silver strands from her face, a woman speaking in gentle tones, as soothing as the mother’s hymn.

“It will all be over soon.”

And then, she dreamt nothing at all.

 


End file.
